


fighting the hurricane

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (sort of but not really), BAMF!Stiles, Canon Divergent, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Gen, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Nogitsune, Possession, Post 317, Self Prompt, Team Lionheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very suggestion is <b>ludicrous</b> and has Derek on his feet in a heartbeat, Chris’ throat under his hand. “That is <i>not</i> an option!” He growls, ignoring the gun pressing against his forehead in favor of tightening his grip on the ex-hunter’ throat.</p><p>Chris glares back, sneering at the werewolf as he presses the cold barrel of his gun harder against Derek’s temple. “What other choice do we have?” He barks back, eyes ablaze with anger.</p><p>Snarling, Derek makes sure to press his blunt fingers hard into the human’s throat, wanting to leave an impression on Chris’ skin. He leans in to growl, “<i>Anything</i> but that. But killing him wont <i>ever</i> be an option.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	fighting the hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> This is all probably going to get Joss'd SO HARD by the next ep. Written in 6.5 hours and only given one look over so it's like, half beta'd? 
> 
> This was originally gonna be two short drabbles (one for finduilasclln & sinyhale and the other for zainclaw) but then I started live writing it in and thought “I can combine both ideas! Lets do this!”
> 
> Thank you to the girls for all your cheering and sweet words ; v; <3 This one is for you all.

The very suggestion is  **ludicrous**  and has Derek on his feet in a heartbeat, Chris’ throat under his hand. “That is  _not_  an option!” He growls, ignoring the gun pressing against his forehead in favor of tightening his grip on the ex-hunter’ throat.  


Chris glares back, sneering at the werewolf as he presses the cold barrel of his gun harder against Derek’s temple. “What other choice do we have?” He barks back, eyes ablaze with anger.  


Snarling, Derek makes sure to press his blunt fingers hard into the human’s throat, wanting to leave an impression on Chris’ skin. He leans in to growl, “ _Anything_  but that. But killing him wont  _ever_  be an option.”  


He expects Scott to step in and stop them, but the teenager remains rooted in place, staring off into space. Clearly the shock of finding out that Stiles is the evil spirit the oni are looking for is too much. Derek can’t imagine what Scott is thinking but he  _can_  imagine how the boy is feeling. Because he’s feeling it as well. Probably not with the same intensity but…  


"We’re  **not**  killing him.” Derek insists, hard enough his voice breaks just slightly in the end.  


It’s Isaac who steps in between them, eyeing them both hard to lower their ‘weapons’ before gesturing for them to return to their seats. “If we’re not killing him, then we need another plan.” He points out the obvious, gaze flitting over the people in the room.  


Allison stands behind her dad, expression pensive as she curls her arms around her stomach. Lydia sits next to Scott, both of them pale faced. The red head is clearly a million miles away even as she mechanically rubs Scott’s back. Derek sits back down, tempted to just throw himself into the chair like a child instead of the grown man that he is. He wishes the Sheriff was here. Chris wouldn’t  _dare_  suggest killing Stiles if Sheriff Stilinski had been with them. But as it was, the man was busy being questioned by some FBI agents so, here they were.  


A deep sense of helplessness surges through him when Isaac again asks, “So? Anyone got a Plan B?”  


At the end of the day, while it’s all well and good to say that they can’t kill Stiles, its the only plan they have. They don’t know enough about the situation, much less how it can be dealt with. There’s just too many unknown variables involved. How can they come up with a plan to save Stiles when every idea they’d have keeps being shot down?  


"I think…" Scott speaks up hesitantly, eyes moving from Lydia to Chris. "I might have an idea?"  


Everyone looks up at him, expressions varying between hopeful and wary. Scott lips his lips, glancing up at Derek and then at Isaac. “Remember the thing you told me? About Peter looking through your memories? With his claws.”  


"Yeeeeah." Isaac drags the word out in confusion. "What about it?"  


"Well…" Scott grimaces as he looks over at Derek again, who has a very bad feeling about this.   
—  
"For the record," Derek mutters from his hiding spot in the tiny closet, "I think this is a terrible idea."  


He can’t see it but Derek is certain Scott is rolling his eyes in that mulish way of his. “You always think my ideas are terrible.”  


Muttering darkly about how Scott’s idea  _do_  tend to go South for him, Derek turns his attention outward. Melissa had said Stiles was going to come for his check up soon and when he did, she was going to lead him to the room, give him another sedative to help him sleep and then…  


"Are you sure you can do this?" Derek can’t help but ask. He’s a worrier, so sue him. "You’ve never done this before."  


"That’s why you’re here remember?" Scott wriggles against him, almost kneeing Derek in the nuts. "You’re like, the catalyst for this."  


"Catalyst huh." Interesting word choice.  


They both freeze when they hear the door open, standing stiff as boards as they listen to Stiles tiredly tell Melissa about how he hasn’t slept for more than 10 hours in the past 4 days. “Can you help me out please?” Stiles begs.  


"Of course I will." She answers, pen scratching against paper before she puts her board down. "On the bed, shoes off."  


Derek tries not to breathe, scared that the sound of it will be too loud and tip Stiles off. Or worse, might tip off the dark spirit inside of Stiles. They don’t know right now if they’re dealing with Stiles or the spirit mimicking Stiles’ behaviors.  


Better to be safe than sorry right? The odds are already tipped against their favor and Derek doesn’t want to fuck up Stiles’ chances any more than they already are. He owes Stiles too much to mess this up.  


They wait with bated breath, listening to Melissa and Stiles talk about Stiles’ symptoms and how they’ve been getting worse. The sharp inhale from Scott when Stiles explains how the panic attacks have gotten worse make Derek reach out to the alpha.  


He grabs Scott’s forearm and squeezes, hoping his touch will ground the teenager. Scott doesn’t acknowledge the move but the acidic smell of his sudden angerfearnerves dissolves. For his part, Derek can’t help but feel relieved.   


"Sweet dreams." Melissa finally says.  


Which makes Stiles snort tiredly before muttering, “Not stinking likely. No offense.”  


"None taken."  


Derek swallows hard, too aware of how loud it sounds in the tiny space they’re hiding in. Melissa had said it wouldn’t take long for the sedatives to take effect, ‘Two minutes, tops.’ were her words. All they had to do was wait.  


He feels Scott’s hand wrap around his arm, index finger tapping a rhythm out. Derek frowns down in the dark before he quickly realizes Scott is counting seconds out. Dammit. He starts counting with Scott, even though he’s several seconds behind. Derek’s body is ready to jump into action as he crosses 100 seconds.  


"Ready?" Scott asks quietly a few more taps later.  


Before answering, Derek focuses on Stiles. The teenager’s heartbeat is steady, breathing deep and low. From the sound of it, he’s probably deep asleep. “Ready.” Derek answers, shooting one last prayer to whoever is listening that they won’t fuck this up. Not too badly any ways.  


When the door doesn’t creak upon its opening, Derek takes it as a good sign. Maybe thing’s won’t go horribly wrong this time. He gestures for Scott to get out before following him into the room.  


_God,_ that had been an uncomfortably tight fit. And  **that**  had been the easy part. The hard part was only starting.  


Scott tip toes over to Stiles’ bedside, making an odd gesture which makes Derek shoot the teenager a confused look. ‘ _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_ ' He wonders, watching Scott repeat the gesture.   


Rolling his eyes at Derek’s ineptitude, Scott gestures at Stiles shoulders before miming something which makes Derek whisper, “Just tell me already!”  


"What if the nogitsune is listening?" Scott hisses back, elbowing Derek in the ribs as they stand side by side by Stiles’ bedside.  


Rolling his eyes, Derek quickly rolls Stiles over on his side, baring the back of his neck to them. “Then this plan was doomed from the start. Now come on. Claws out.”  


He lets his own claws pop out, nervously rubbing the tips of them against his palm, out of Scott’s sight. Hopefully Scott won’t pick up on his worry. Scott needs to believe his plan will work. For his part, Derek is tentatively hopeful this crazy plan will work. He’s never heard of anyone attempting anything like this, much less on a human but… desperate times, desperate measures and all that jazz.  


Deaton, Peter and Derek have explained the theory of memory extraction to Scott in great detail. All that’s left to do now is sink or swim. “Remember, don’t push too hard.” Derek reminds Scott one last time.  


"Flow with it, not against it." Scott finishes nervously, exhaling shortly before nodding. "Got it."  


With a nod of his own, Derek presses the tip of two claws against Stiles’ delicate skin. He doesn’t think about how human Stiles is or how dangerous this is or how one wrong move could lead to so many bad endings. Not to mention how long it’s going to take Stiles to heal… Nope, Derek is definitely  _not_  thinking about all of that.  


"Remind me again why you’re here?" Scott asks suddenly, sharp eyes locked onto Derek.  


Taken aback at the sudden (if a little rude) inquiry, Derek takes a moment to ponder the question. As it turns out, he doesn’t need it. The answer comes to him in a heart beat. “Because I owe him my life.” Derek answers with quiet resolve. “And it’s my turn to return the favor.”  


He gives Scott a determined little nod, grateful that the alpha reminded him of his purpose. This is the least he can do for Stiles. After everything he’s done for Derek.  


"On three." Scott says, his own claws in place on Stiles’ neck. "One, two, three."  


Their claws sink into soft flesh at the same time.  


—  


The first thing Derek sees when he opens his eyes, is a blackboard. He’s in the high school? Turning around, he finds Scott standing next to him, giving their surroundings the same confused look he is.  


"This… Is this Stiles’ dream?" Scott asks, moving to look out the window. "Whoa. This is weird."  


Derek walks over to take a look as well.  


Where everything in the classroom is exactly to form and detailed, like a high definition picture, the outside is nothing but thick, roiling fog. “Come on,” Derek jerks his head towards the open door. “We better go find Stiles. We probably don’t have a lot of time.”  


With one last look at the fog, Scott weaves his way through the empty seats towards the door. “I thought dreams weren’t supposed to be this detailed.” He points out as they pass by a group of students, all of them having the same face but different clothing and accessories.  


"You’ve never had really vivid dreams?" Derek asks out of mere curiosity, eyeing the walls distrustfully. Weren’t they white just a few steps ago? Or had they always been gray?  


"Not really. I don’t dream a lot. And when I do I kind of don’t remember most of them. Wait." Derek follows Scott to the next door, peeking in through the window even as Scott opens the door. None of the students pay them any mind, staring intently at the teacher. Who continues with his soundless lecture, mouth moving as he stands behind the podium with a book open in front of him.  


It’s more than a little creepy.  


With a low curse, Scott pushes him back out before closing the door. “Okay, he’s not in there. Then I guess we could check the boy’s bathroom?”  


Derek can’t help but give Scott a slightly unimpressed look. “You plan on checking the whole school looking for Stiles?”  


"Not the _whole_  school.” Scott reasons, “Just the places Stiles is most familiar with. Don’t we always dream of things most familiar to us?”  


"Not necessarily. Sometimes people dream about places they’ve never been too or don’t even exist."  


Scott looks extremely annoyed at Derek’s words, crossing his arms as he frowns down the corridor. “Then what do you think we should do?”  


"Call him to us. This might be Stiles’ dream but we’re not under the control of his subconscious. Maybe we can manipulate his dreams a bit. Just enough to make Stiles find us."  


"Or take us to Stiles." Scott breathes out, expression clearing in understanding.  


Derek nods, placing his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I think if we focus on Stiles, on a really strong memory, then maybe that’ll do it.”  


"Sounds like a crappy plan."  


He can’t help but smirk and give Scott a tiny shove, “Takes one to know one.”  


Scott throws him a weak grin back before sighing, “We should have asked Deaton more about how to dream walk and everything.”  


Derek can’t help but agree but it’s too late to cry over this now. It makes sense though doesn’t it? If they focus on Stiles, on a strong memory of him, it’ll act like a honing beacon or radar?  


"Okay," the alpha breathes out, giving himself a small shake, "I’m gonna try this. What if this doesn’t work?"  


"Then we’ll go with your plan."  


"God this sucks so hard." Scott mumbles before sighing loudly. Derek agrees internally, watching the boy squeeze his eyes shut. He doesn’t even blink and suddenly they’re suddenly they’re standing in another classroom.  


Students are filing in, chattering and laughing as they take their seats. “Do you see him?” The question is barely out of his mouth when Stiles stumbles into the room. His eyes glance over the room before landing on them. And his mouth falls open in surprise.  


"Scott?" Stiles asks in surprise, "What are you doing here?" He turns around to look at the hallway, confusion coloring his tone. "Didn’t I just…"  


Derek is startled to realize Stiles doesn’t smell like anything here. Neither does Scott. But it’s easy to note the exact second Stiles goes from confused to scared, back hitting the wall as he whispers, “Oh God. This is a dream isn’t it. I’m dreaming again. Oh  _God!_ ”  


He lets Scott out from under his hand, realizing a second too late how everyone in the classroom is silently observing them. It reminds Derek a little much of Children of the Corn. Shaking it off, he steps forward to kneel on the floor next to Scott and Stiles.  


Scott’s hand rests on Stiles’ shoulder, shaking the teenager lightly as he speaks, “This  _is_  a dream Stiles but we’re here to help you! You can trust us!”  


"Help me?" Pleading brown eyes move between Scott and Derek. "How the hell can you guys help me? You’re just… figments of my imagination."  


"Not exactly. Or not really. We’re just hitch hiking on your dream? It’s a long story and we’ll tell you the whole thing when you’re awake and back in your own body." Derek offers his hand to Stiles, hoping he’ll take it. "Right now, we need to help you come back."  


"Come back? Where the hell did I go?" Stiles looks in bewilderment at Scott. "I’ve been in school all day!"  


What does that mean? Has the entity been forcing Stiles to dream while it takes over? Or has Stiles been forced deep into his sub conciousness by the entity? Derek doesn’t know what to believe and he regrets taking part in this whole cockamine plan.  


Scott grimaces as he offers his own hand as well. Gladness fills the werewolf as Stiles accepts both their hands and lets them help him up to his feet. Here Derek had been worried Stiles might be more sceptical of them and their story. Yet another good sign.  


"Long story short?" Scott begins, "There’s this evil spirit possessing you and we’re here to help you kick it out."  


"Say what?"  


The surprised look Stiles gives his best friend would be comical in any other situation. “Yeah. I saw you take the demons down. I don’t think you saw me but you just, stuck your hand into its chest and…” Scott sticks his free hand into thin air, makes a fist and pulls it back sharply.”  


Stiles’ eyebrows go far up Derek wonders if they’re going to hit his hairline. “I don’t remember that.”  


"You’ve been having black outs right?" Derek finally cuts in. "We think that’s when the spirit takes over."  


"The sleep walking." Stiles whispers under his breath before scrubbing both hands over his face. He groans loudly before running his hands through his hair. "Okay. Assuming that I believe you, what’s the plan then? You guys show up, find me, tell me what’s going on and then?"  


Derek turns towards Scott, gesturing with his hand to explain the next part because it’s Scott plan and honestly, it’s going to be more fun this way.  


With a sheepish look, Scott speaks, “We’re kind of making this up as we go along but ummm we thought we’d kill the spirit in your head and that’ll be the end of it?”  


The blank look Stiles gives his best friend almost makes Derek let out a laugh. “Seriously? _That’s_  your plan?”  


Stiles reaches out to slap his best friend over the head, prompting the laugh to tumble out of Derek’s mouth. “ _This_  is why  **I’m**  the plans guy.” Stiles mutters, shoving Scott out the door before gesturing for Derek to follow.  


Rubbing the back of his head, Scott scowls, “Fine. Then  _you_  come up with a plan.”  


"Gimme a minute!" Stiles answers, frowning as he stares down the corridor, fingers flicking in thought. "Okay, first things first. How the hell did you find me?"  


Pointing at Derek, Scott answers, “Derek’s idea. I just… focused on a memory of you and next thing we knew, we were in the classroom.”  


"Maybe…" Stiles mumbles, biting his bottom lip hard. "Maybe we can do the same thing for whatever’s in my head? Do you think that could work?"  


When both teenagers turn to look at him, Derek half shrugs. “It’s possible. What are we going to do then?”  


"Fight and kill it?" Scott suggests, "That was the plan right?"  


"What if we  _can’t_  kill it.” He can’t help but insist because SOMEONE needs to play devil’s advocate here and it might as well be him. “What if its got an escape route or it’s latched too hard with Stiles.”  


They quickly dissolve into bickering, arguing back and forth with each other. Given they’re in Stiles’ dream then killing the nogitsune would be easy! But the entity has been in Stiles’ head far longer than they have. They could imagine a scenario which will work in their favor. Again, the entity has been in Stiles’ head longer and could easily twist the setting to its advantage. What if they kill the creature and it just jumps into the nearest available body, which is either them or any other unsuspecting human around them. It could even be Scott’s mom!  


"Uh, guys?" Stiles  _actually_  steps in between them, arms stretched out to keep them apart. “I think I’ve got an idea?”  


—  


The door is as unremarkable as the last time he’d laid eyes on it. Derek peers into the dark beyond it, frowning slightly as he opens Stiles’ bedroom door further and sticks his head out where the hallway was supposed to be.  


The lack of scents in Stiles’ dream is making Derek’s skin crawl. He’s never realized how much he depends on his nose. He can’t see or smell anything in the darkness.  


"What makes you so sure?" Scott is asking Stiles behind him.  


That is an excellent question. Derek pulls himself back into the room, wondering why it’s suddenly night time and why Stiles couldn’t have imagined the lights on.  


The teenager is staring at the door, a fearful edge to his look. “One of the first dreams I had were… remember the thing I told Deaton? About the sign language thing?”  


"When is a door not a door?" Scott asks.  


Derek raises an eyebrow at the riddle. “When it’s ajar.”  


Stiles frowns heavily at the answer. “Yeah. It pissed me off like, my subconscious wants to talk to me but it’s gotta talk in riddles?” Derek’s self control is tested in that moment when he wants to make a snide remark in the line of ‘It’s  _your_  brain. Are you that surprised?’ but manages to hold his tongue. “But it seemed important you know?”  


He shoots Scott a wary look when Stiles begins to walk towards the door, almost as though he’s in a trance. “Lydia kept telling me to ignore it. And I said what if they get in. What if something had already come in back then? What if she was a sign or something? Another riddle. Another warning from my sub concious that I shouldn’t close the door.”  


"Why wouldn’t you want to close the door?" Derek hesitantly asks when it’s clear that Scott won’t say anything.  


Stiles reaches out to grab the doorknob. The door creaks - low, long and creepy. Derek stares out into the darkness beyond the doorway and shivers. He can’t help it. Stiles’ voice is low and contemplative when he replies, “Because if something got in through here, then I can probably send it back out the same way.”  


That sounds easier said than done, Derek can’t help but think. Which is the story of their lives isn’t it? As is the fact they’re prone to pulling miracles out of their asses when they’ve got their back to the wall.  


"Do you know what’s out there?" Scott asks, coming to hover between Stiles and Derek and the door. His shoulder brushes against Derek’s when he leans forward to take a peek.  


Derek gives Stiles a questioning look of his own. Even with his superior senses (which totals to jack squat here in Stiles’ dream world. Which, come to think of, is totally stupid! Stiles knows about werewolves so why the hell can’t his subconscious allow them to smell what’s going on? Or maybe this is a dream’s thing. Derek makes a mental note to look this up later), Derek can’t make anything out beyond the door. It’s as though nothing exists in the dark.  


Just a void.  


Pure emptiness.  


Just the thought of it sends a shiver down his spine. The idea of absolute nothingness is beyond his comprehension. And now that he’s facing it…  


"Last time it led me to the Nemeton."  


"The Nemeton?"   


Stiles nods at Scott’s question, “Yeah. I walked right up to it. And there were all these lights…” His voice trails away, soft and contemplative.  


So it’s not nothing. Maybe it’s like a hallway? Derek stares contemplatively into the dark. Could the dark places be like a path from one space in Stiles’ brain to another?  


"I think we should try leading the nogitsune to the Nemeton and try defeating it there." Derek suggests.  


"But what about the whole, door thing." Scott points out. "We could try calling it here and then pushing it out the door?"  


"How about killing it AND shoving it out the door." Stiles’ voice is laced with venom, hard enough to make Derek shoot the teenager a surprised look.  


Scott shrugs easily, “Why not.”  


Sometimes, these boys scare him. Derek shakes his head, exhaling quietly before chiming in, “This isn’t going to be easy.”  


"When is it ever." And now Stiles just sounds tired beyond his years.  


Derek’s hand reaches out to comfort the human before he can think to stop himself. He gives Stiles’ shoulder a warm squeeze. “Pretty much never. But we always seem to come out on top.” Derek offers weakly.  


"Thing’s have  _got_  to be bad if  _you’re_  trying to give a pep talk.” Stiles chuckles weakly, giving Derek’s hand a quick pat. He quickly moves to stand between Scott and Derek, hands by his sides. “So I just… think of this thing? In my head?”  


"We all could?" Scott suggests, looking over at Derek. "We’ve seen what it looks like."  


Derek winds up finishing the sentence, ”But it’s your head.”   


"I have no idea why you think that’s going to help." Stiles’ joke feels weak but the very fact he’s trying to joke his way through the situation helps. Makes Derek feel like they can do this. The only thing he can do now is hope. And fight.  


Scott even laughs at the poor joke. “Whenever you’re ready then.”  


The human nods and closes his eyes, anchoring himself by placing one hand each on the werewolves’ shoulders. Derek immediately goes on the defensive, ready for the nogitsune to show up. His eyes move from shadow to shadow, yet again wishing Stiles had imagined it to be day or at least turned the lights on.  


But nothing moves.  


Everything is too quiet.  


Beyond their heartbeats and breathing, Derek can’t hear a thing.  


The unnatural quiet makes his hackles rise, the urge to growl in warning growing and growing with every passing second until he swears he can hear it in his head.  


"Do you hear that?" Scott hisses suddenly, eyes flashing red as he shifts and stares at Stiles’ bed.  


_Shit_. Derek hadn’t been imagining it then.  


A pair of milky white eyes peer at them from the darkness under Stiles’ bed. The sight of them inexplicably reminds Derek of the time when he’d been studying cataract and other diseases related to the human eye. He can’t help but tense when the creature crawls out from its hiding place.  


Derek remembers being a kid and pouring over an old book about Japanese folklore and legends. He remembers the beautiful drawings of fiery kitsune, with their nine tails and clever faces. But this creature? Bears no resemblance to those noble creatures.  


This looks like a deformed version of the good spirits.

 

It is gangly and thin - all bones really.  You can see it's ribs sticking out with every breath. With legs too long for its spindly body and hands twice the size of its small head. It’s small ears lie flat against its skull, thin fur edging the skin - that and it's snout the only parts of it resembling a fox. The same fur runs down the creatures body but thicker, growing into a thin, long tail. But the fur does not extend down the hands, the fur growing thin past it's 'elbows'. It's skin is dark and smooth skin, without wrinkle or scarring. Which doesn’t explain the blood or goop or whatever the thick dark liquid is dripping from it's maws. And fangs twice the size of its head.  


He feels Stiles blanch, taking a step back as he hisses, “ _That’s_  the thing that’s been in my head all along?” Derek can’t blame him for the disgusted tone. He feels the same way. The longer he looks at it’s overly large feet (because the creature doesn’t have paws. No, those are clawed  _hands_ at the end of each limb) with the sharp claws and the sunken white eyes, the more Derek feels an incredible sense of  **wrong**.  


"What the hell is wrong with its eyes?"  


Scott’s hissed comment also rings true. Around the creatures eyes, there are thin lines spreading out. Like someone shoved the eyeballs in too deep, causing the skull to crack and eye sockets to grow shrunken. Maybe that’s what causing the nogitsune to bleed from the head?  


"Doesn’t matter." Derek answers grimly, shifting into his beta form. "We’re going to kill it anyways." He turns towards Stiles, eyes locked on the nogitsune whose jaw is open and breathing out sickly smelling air. "I don’t suppose you could imagine a weapon up for yourself?"  


"I could try?" Stiles offers weakly.  


With a firm nod, Derek turns to Scott. “Lets get this over with.”  


The nogitsune lets out a low shriek, shrill and angry as it pounces towards Stiles. Derek steps in its path, grabbing it and throwing it away at the far wall.  


It’s claws leave behind long scratches on his forearms, deep enough to draw blood. But he ignores his wounds, jumping after Scott as they attack the creature together. Despite the fact they’re using their claws, they don’t manage to inflict a lot of damage to the creature. It seems to be made of the same nothingness as the oni. Dark shadow and white fur. But at least it bleeds. And seems to feel pain.  


Hot liquid pours out of it’s every wound, every hurt spurning the creature to claw at them harder. Scott howls when it sinks its teeth into his shoulder, white eyes rolling around to land on Derek before the white tail lashes out to smack into the older werewolf’s face.  


It’s just fur but the force behind it sends Derek flying back into a table.  


"I’m so glad this is a dream or else I’d kick your butts for trashing my room." Stiles yells over the noise.  


Derek snarls as he jumps up to his feet, only to find himself with a face full of nogitsune trying to biteclawscratch his face off. He tries to push the creature away, grimacing at the thick liquid dripping over him. It can’t be blood given the sluggish consistency. And there’s the fact that it burns whenever it touches his skin.  


The creature’s humanish hands grab Derek’s head and squeeze, a pleased hissing noise pouring out through its teeth. "Die!" It hisses through bloodied teeth. Derek feels the claws digging in painfully, making his struggles all the more desperate but it’s no use. He can’t push the creature off him.  


It’s only when Scott stumbles forward and rakes his claws down the creatures back does it let go. The nogitsune jumps away, the loud pained screech it lets out makes Derek stumble back, head spinning.  


"Over here you overgrown fur ball!" Stiles yells over the scream, an aluminium baseball bat in hands.  


"Stiles! What the hell are you doing?"  


But Stiles ignores Scott’s startled yell, staring the nogitsune down.  


The creature is on all fours now, crouched on the floor, several feet away from Stiles who stands in front of the open door. His knuckles are as white as his face but his voice is nothing but strong and angry when he taunts the creature, “You want me don’t you? Guess what? You can’t have me! I’m going to knock you out of my head as soon as I kick you sorry, scrawny  **ass**!”  


With a yowl, the creature pounces on Stiles. Who yells and swings his bat, catching the nogitsune right in the gut. Derek and Scott stare in amazement as the creature crashes into the wall and slides down, shaking its head in clear disorientation.  


"Yeah! You like that? You want some of this?" Stiles yells, bringing his bat up again. "Come and get it you stupid piece of sh-"  


The nogitsune runs forward this time. And for a creature as ungainly looking as it is, it’s surprisingly fast. It swipes at Stiles’ feet this time, jumping away as the bat swishes past its head. Derek takes the opportunity to tackle the creature, only to find himself grabbing thin air and rolling into Scott’s legs.  


The trio blink at the empty spot where the creature had been standing. Only to look at up at a low hiss.  


"You’ve got to be _kidding_  me!” Stiles yells at the nogitsune as it crawls along the ceiling.  


Scott grunts as he helps Derek up to his feet. “Explains the claws at least.”  


Explains it and complicates matters a bit. “I don’t care,” Derek declares grimly, “I want it dead already. Scott. Give me a boost.”  


He doesn’t even have to ask twice. Scott links his hands together, keeping one eye on the hissing creature crawling away to the corner of the room where the shadows are darkest. Derek doesn’t stop to think. He puts his boot up and Scott is shoving him up as he jumps.  


Derek soars through the air, claws out as he heads right for the skittering creature. He manages to grab the tail, which is enough to drag it down  **hard**.  


The wet thump it makes against the floor makes Stiles let out a noise suspiciously close to throwing up. “Is it dead?” He hears the teenager ask.  


The nogitsune immediately pounces on Derek, all hissing, spitting, fanged fury as it claws and rips at Derek’s chest. Derek clenches his teeth, arms up to protect his face from the creature’s wicked sharp claws.  


"Guess not!" Scott yells, making a mad grab for the creatures tail as well.  


Derek lowers his arms from his face when he feels the weight shift off his chest, just in time to see the nogitsune crash into Stiles. Who begins to stumble back through the open door.  


"Stiles!" Derek and Scott yell in tandem, racing forward as one.  


But there’s little they can do. Stiles and the nogitsune fall back into the darkness as one, tangled together in a mess of claws, blood and yells.  


Neither of them think as they jump in after them, Derek catching himself right before the roots of the Nemeton. Scott falls into his back, yelping, “Ow! Man I  _hate_  all the sudden scene changes in here!”  


He ignores Scott’s complain, too busy running forward towards Stiles, who is on the dusty ground, pinned underneath the nogitsune as it hisses, “I  _will_  have you! You cannot stop me.”  


"Wanna bet?" Stiles snarls back, trying his best to kick the creature off him. The creature grins back, all sharp teeth, red gums and black blood as it presses one hand over Stiles’ throat and presses.  


The choked noise the teenager lets out snaps Scott out of his paralysis. “Let him go!” He yells even as he tackles the creature, rolling a few times with it before the creature slashes at his face.  


Derek runs forward to help Stiles up, worried blue eyes glancing over the cuts on Stiles’ face and the redness around his neck.  


"I’m fine. I’m  _fine_!” Stiles snaps, rubbing the back of his hand under his bloody nose. “Just help him!”  


Scott howls in pain as the creature grabs his arm and applies pressure. Derek hopes he just imagined the sound of snapping bone because otherwise things are going to get very bad, _very_ fast.  


The creature lets go of Scott’s limb, standing up on hind legs as it whips its small head around to level Derek with a blank look made terrifying by it's toothy grin. “You’re next, werewolf.” It declares in its high voice.  


Even as his stomach twists in fear, Derek holds his ground and roars at the creature in challenge. He’s ready for it this time.  


When the entity tries to pounce on him, Derek catches it and slams it’s ugly, bleeding body on the hard ground. The nogitsune tries to claw it’s way free but oh, Derek isn’t going to let go of it this time. It’s time to end this fight already.  


"Stiles!" He barks immediately, using his feet to pin the nogitsune’s squirming body down. "Do it now! Kill it!"  


That’s all Stiles needs to run up to him, pale faced but determined as he gives the creature a hard stare before gritting his teeth and bringing the bat down on its head.  


The nogitsune lets out an ugly screech, piercing enough to make Derek’s ears ring in pain. But Stiles powers through it, screaming back as he brings the bat down again and again and again until the nogitsune is nothing but fleshy matter against the dusty roots of the Nemeton.  


Stiles throws the bat away, body trembling like a leaf in the wind as the metallic clang of the bat echoes around them. Derek steps closer, placing his hand on the teenager’s shoulder - similar to the way Stiles had after offered comfort after Boyd’s death.  


Stiles freezes a moment, tense as a string pulled too tight before letting go. He stares down at the nogitsune’s body, scrubbing his hand across his face before grimacing when he realizes he’s smeared blood and brain matter into his skin.  


"Is it… dead?" Scott hesitantly asks from the other side, poking the creature with his foot. The body twitches, making Stiles and Scott jump back with identical scared yelps.  


Derek grunts in surprise, finding himself with an armful of startled Stiles, who is yelling, “HIT IT WITH THE BAT! KILL IT SCOTT KILL IT!” as loudly as he can.  


"It’s already dead!" Derek points out over Stiles’ yelling, holding the teenager tight against him or else he’s scared he’ll get an elbow to the face. It’s entirely possible! He’s seen Stiles in action okay? "That’s just a muscle spasm. Look, it’s brain is all over the floor."  


Stiles eyes him - pausing when he notices how close they are - before glancing down at the nogitsune’s twitching leg. “You sure?” His expression and tone are heavy with wariness.  


With a heavy sigh, Derek lets go of Stiles and goes to retrieve his discarded bat. Honestly, the things he has to do for and with these two. He holds it up as he returns to his spot next to the creature’s body and pointedly rams the bat through what’s left of the nogitsune’s skull.  


The wet squelching noise makes Stiles’ face go green and Scott mutter, “That is  _gross_.”  


Derek leans on the bat, shooting Stiles a pointed look. “Dead.”  


"I get the picture already." He mutters back, giving the creatures twitching limbs a kick before looking up. "Now what?"  


A loud creaky noise cuts through the air. As one, the trio whip around to look at the Nemeton. And the door which has materialized on top the stump.  


It’s polished oak. Rich brown in color with a simple bronze knocker in the middle and simple doorknob on one side. And it’s ajar.  


"Is that…" Derek begins to ask, trailing off when he sees Stiles walking towards it.  


The teenager hesitates two steps away from the door, looking between Scott and Derek. “Do I close it or… walk… through it?” He asks.  


Scott looks to Derek, who wonders how the hell is this his life? He should have insisted Deaton join them on this whole dream walking journey. At least he’d have some answers.  


Derek shrugs helplessly. “This is your head. I’m guessing you just need to close the door to sever the connection.”  


"And maybe imagine a giant wood chipper and shove the door into it. Just to make it final." Scott chimes in.  


The tension bleeds off Stiles’ shoulders at Scott’s words, an amused grin breaking over his dirty face. “I think I will.” He says firmly, stepping on top of the tree stump before taking hold of the doorknob. “Don’t take this personally but I hope I never see you again.” Stiles tells the door before slamming it shut.  


It’s peculiar how the bat clanging against the ground had echoed but the door slamming doesn’t. Stiles sways slightly in place, stumbling back into Derek’s arms as the door crumbles to dust before them.  


Startled beyond words, Derek stands frozen with Stiles half standing in his arms, watching the door, the Nementon, the  _woods_  all turning to dust before they are swept away by a wind which touches none of them.  


"That," Scott begins as he shifts back to his human form, "was  _freaky_.”  


He’s inclined to agree. Stiles’ back presses against his chest briefly as he stand up, face flushed pink when he gives Derek a quick thankful look before stepping out of the werewolf’s grip.  


"What now?" He asks, sticking his hands into his jeans.  


—  


Derek gasps and stumbles back, feeling as though someone had violently pushed him away.  _'Talk about your violent ejections.'_  He can’t help but think, back flat against the thin wall. Scott is in a similar state by his feet. Where Derek has stumbled back, Scott has fallen to the floor - legs spread and hands bracing his body as he gives his head a hard shake.  


"What just happened?" Scott asks from his spot on the floor.  


Derek pushes himself up straight, hoping the pounding in his head will leave shortly. If _he’s_  got a headache after dream walking then he doesn’t want to imagine how bad  _Stiles’_ must be feeling right now.  


"I think his subconscious just kicked us out.  _Violently_.” He steps up next to Scott, holding his hand out for him to take.  


Scott looks between Derek’s face and his proffered hand, grasping it tight before hopping up to his feet. “Because we did what we came to do?” He hazards a guess.  


Derek nods because it’s the only thing that makes sense. Stiles’ only let them stay in his head because they were there to complete a certain task and once that was done, they’d been booted out.  


But then why hadn’t he done the same with the nogitsune?  _'Probably because he was never aware of its presence.'_  Derek reasons, looking around for a clock. How long had they been ‘under’ anyways. His eyebrows shoot up when he realizes it’s only been 20 minutes. Strange. It felt more like a half a day rather than 20 minutes.  


Scott gently pats his arm, frowning concernedly down at Stiles. “Why isn’t he awake? Don’t tell me we messed things up? Or this is some Sleeping Beauty kind of thing where someone’s got to kiss him and he’ll wake up? I’m already telling you, I’m not kissing him. That’s just too weird.”  


Derek slowly turns to give Scott a flat, disbelieving look. “Did you forget the part where your mom gave him a sedative?” He asks slowly.  


It takes exactly 2 seconds for Scott to process the question and flushing. “Right. Forgot about that.”   


"Sooo. I guess we wait then?" Scott asks after a long pause.  


Derek looks at Stiles, resting so peacefully on the bed. After everything they’ve been through, it’s the least he can do right? He nods even as he pulls one of the chair’s up next to Stiles’ bed. It’s going to be a long wait after all, might as well get comfortable.  


It doesn’t take long for Scott to fall into a peaceful doze across from him, head pressed to his shoulder in his sleep. He’s even drooling slightly.He wakes up a couple of times, blinks at Stiles and Derek before wiping his mouth clean and falling back to sleep when he realizes nothing has changed.  


Derek eyes him with great amusement when he does this for the 4th time, whispering, “I guess that’s another thing you both share in common.” to Stiles. Stiles’ breathes in deeply in reply. “I don’t know how you both can sleep just anywhere. It’s too weird.” Stiles breathes out.  


He doesn’t know why he’s talking to Stiles but it feels right? It feels easier at least, without having Stiles or Scott’s eyes on them. Derek leans forward on his chair, elbows on his thighs as he sighs, “I wish you’d wake up already. I never was good with waiting.”  


"Y’r not good with a lotta t’ings." Stiles slurs tiredly, eyes open but a sliver. But he’s smiling weakly at Derek. "N’t jes waitin’."  


Derek ducks his head, hiding his relieved smile from the teenager before looking up. “How do you feel?”  


Closing his eyes, the teenager hums before answering in the same sleepy tone. “Like I could sleep a while longer.”  


"You should."  


"But you keep blabbering," he raises one hand high enough to make the universal sign of a chatterbox, "Hard to sleep when there’s a dude emo-ing next to your bed."  


"Is that any way to show gratitude to the person who helped save your life?" Derek teases back.  


"What do you want from me? A kiss?" Stiles blows him an exaggerated kiss, smooching noise and all, before cracking up hard enough to make Scott jerk up in his seat, blinking around in confusion before he notices Stiles’ is awake.  


"You’re okay!" The alpha exclaims in delight, jumping Stiles on the bed to grab his friend in a hug.  


Stiles grunts but continues to laugh, softer now that Scott’s pinning him down. “Won’t be for long if you keep this up buddy.”  


After exchanging a quick grin, Scott pulls back to sit down on the bed. “What’s so funny? How do you feel? When’d you wake up? And why didn’t you wake me?” The last question is thrown Derek’s way.  


Derek pointedly looks at Stiles, wordlessly telling him to answer Scott. “I feel fine. A little sleepy but fine. And I guess I just woke up a little while ago? Right?” He turns to Derek for askance, who nods in turn.  


"And what was so funny?"  


"Oh," Stiles begins to chuckle again, "Was just expressing my gratitude to Derek for saving me."  


Scott pouts playfully, punching Stiles in the arm. “What? No gratitude for me? I was there too you know!”  


"Awww, c’mere!" Stiles laughs as he gestures for his best friend to come closer before laying a noisy kiss on his cheek, complete with a ‘smack’ noise. Derek isn’t sure whether to grimace at the sound or laugh at the face Scott makes - equal parts disgusted and amused. "There’s your gratitude."  


As he playfully rubs his cheek clean, Scott jokes, “Next time, just get me a gift card.”  


"Can do." Stiles salutes before gesturing at Derek, "You too big guy."  


Derek holds both hands up in surrender, “No thanks. I’m good.” His smile softens as he continues, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”  


"Yeah dude. You really had us worried." Stiles’ expression twists into something painful and lost before he hides it, looking down into his lap. Derek glances over at Scott, who is reaching out to squeeze Stiles’ hand. "I’ll keep a better eye out next time."  


"We both will." Derek adds in firmly, catching Stiles’ surprised look.  


Embarrassed gratitude flitted over Stiles’ face before he cleared his throat, “Thanks guys.”  


"Any time."  


Derek couldn’t copy Scott’s warm tone but he could offer similar words of comfort. “It’s nothing you haven’t already done for me. It’s the least I could do.”  


"Can we please not do that?" Scott pleads, clearly only  _half_  joking, ”Last thing we need is for you guys to get into some weird competition about who owes who for saving each other’s butts.”  


Stiles sits up at that, “No we wouldn’t!” His indignation falls flat at Scott’s flat look. “Okay, _maybe_  we would. But come on! I  _totally_  saved his ass more times than he saved mine! He totally owes me!”  


It’s hard to school his expression into a look of boredom but Derek does it. It really adds to his dry reply, “Remind me to get you a $50 gift card to the nearest video game store then. We’ll call it even then.”  


He gets a pillow thrown at him for that, along with a long rant about ‘My life is worth more than a $50 gift card you giant fur ball!’. Scott grins at him, eyes soft as he watches Stiles get his rant on. Derek can relate with that look.  


5 minutes later, Scott is shoving Stiles back on the bed with a stern look. “ _You_ need more rest.”  


"But I feel fine!" The teenager complains even as he’s aggressively tucked into bed by the two werewolves.  


Shooting Stiles a look of his own, Derek continues, “You’ve been sleep deprived for a while now. You need to catch up on your rest. So shut up and go to sleep.”  


"With that kind of bedside manner you must be a hit with all the patients."  


Stiles’ quip earns him a dirty look. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Scott offers, “You drove here right?”  


"Yeah," Stiles nods, "Just tell my dad where I am okay?"  


"He already knows. I think he said something about swinging around when his shift ended?"  


Satisfied with the answer, he wriggles deeper into bed before shooting Derek a questioning look. “You’re sticking around right?”  


His eyebrows go up in surprise at the honest curiosity in Stiles’ words. Is he imagining the tiny bit of longing in Stiles’ eyes? “Yeah. I’ll stay for a while. Make sure you’re not attacked or anything.”  


The look the teenagers exchange is heavy with words Derek doesn’t know how to decipher. At the end, Scott waves them both goodbye and Stiles sighs as he leans back. “Remind me to ask Deaton how to avoid getting possessed.” The sentence breaks half way through when Stiles yawns widely, blinking sleepily at the ceiling. “Man I’m beat.”  


"So sleep." Derek offers simply.  


With a tired noise, Stiles turns over on his back before groaning. “God my neck hurts.”  


Oh shit. Derek stands up like a shot. They’d forgotten about the neck wounds. “I’ll go get Melissa. You just…” It’s too late, Stiles is already out. Well. At least that means he’s not too badly hurt right?  


He stands by Stiles’ bedside for a long moment, watching him sleep. A strange feeling curls around in his gut. It feels quiet like relief but something deeper than that. Sweeter as well. Like a sip of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day or a drink of sweet, cold lemonade on a hot July evening. It’s comforting. It’s… It’s a tiny bit scary.  


Derek reaches out to touch Stiles’ hand, breathing in the clean scent of him before shaking his head. “I must be out of my mind.” He whispers to no one, face flushing as he guiltily looks towards the shut door.  


But no one swoops in to scold him about the thoughts he’s having. No Melissa, no Sheriff, no random nurse wondering what he’s doing holding Stiles’ hand in his own while leaning in to press a quick, dry kiss above one eye.  


He can barely hear himself whispering, “I’m glad you’re alright.” to Stiles over the damned beating of his heart. It’s the best he can bring himself to admit. Derek would like to say a lot more but that’s all he dares for now.  


And thankfully, this time, Stiles doesn’t stir. He turns his cheek into the pillow, mumbling, “Don’t warn the tadpoles.”, much to Derek’s bemusement. With one last look (and squeeze to the hand), Derek walks over to the door, opening it quietly before going off in search of Melissa. The sooner Stiles’ wounds are dealt with the better.  


As a result, he misses out on Stiles’ carefully opening one eye to check the room before he whispers, “Oh my GOD” and hides his red face under the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://onelastwaltz.tumblr.com)


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